Showing posts with label Indiblogger Contests. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Indiblogger Contests. Show all posts

Himalayan realization


The problem with being a physically late blooming precocious child is that you hit middle age crisis before pimples break out. I was hardly 27 when I decided to chuck it all up and spend a month touring Italy. I was feeling like I had hit the dead end. I needed to meet new people,get inspired. Outside doctor's waiting room, traveling offers the best chance to meet new people. Inside they are all sick anyway. So I chose to travel to Italy. But after buying lonely planet guide to Italy, I was few thousand dollars short. So I settled for Youth Hostel Himalayan trekking program - Milan went out, Manali came in.



But a step into my tent, I realized my mistake. I had wanted to meet new people. Not drown in them! The tent resembled a Sooraj Barjatya movie minus Madhuri Dixit -suffocating uncles, aunts and brats. To add to my misery all my fellow travellers conversed in Hindi, a language which I didn't understand. Let's face it. The only Tamilian who can speak Hindi is - Rajnikant. In chennai, we have his cut outs not because he can stop speeding bullet but because he can speak Hindi. So when everyone was having fun, I hid in a corner reading my lonely planet guide. I had made up my mind that Italy was the answer to my problems in life.

Suddenly a small girl started singing Celine Dion's 'My heart will go on'. She would become a good singer one day. But that day was clearly far off yet. 'Fantastico! Excellante!', I lavished praise on the kid. I was so happy to hear a sentence that I could understand the meaning of. But my joy didn't last long. Some one from the U.P section of the tent started, 'arz kiya hai' and the whole tent went 'wah!wah! wah!wah!'. I have noticed this curious phenomenon - If you put three U.P people in a room, six shayars come out. There was this old person in early seventies who was the sher of the shayars or the other way round. He was on a spree that night, the next night, and the night after that and... Our trekking went like a clockwork. Morning, we would trek for a long distance. Then we would assemble in the tent. The small girl would sing 'My heart will go on'. I would say 'Fantastico! Excellante!' and then the grand old man of shers would take over. Everybody liked this arrangement but for me and the kid's father. Me, because I didn't understand a single word and the father because well.. he was just jealous of the old man.

I started walking slower and slower during the trek. I was tired of Celine Dion and the shers. But the funny thing with trekking is there is always stiff competition for the first and the last spot.
'I am guessing you don't know Hindi.' The old person asked.
'What gave away Sherlock?' I wanted to ask. But out of respect to his age I just nodded and smiled.
Then he told a sher!
'A sher about how shers go beyond the language.' He said. He seemed to have a sher for every occasion.
'But I don't think that is a sher. I knew the meaning of a word in it.' I protested.
'I see your problem. From now on, I will tell the meaning after I tell the sher.' The old man said.
'Or you could just laugh at the joke.' I said. But my suggestion fell on deaf ears.

Nevertheless we became good friends. And we always shared the last spot in the trek.
'What do you do?' He asked.
'Software Engineer.' I said. I didn't return the favour. Beyond an age you are just happy that you are able to eat, walk and tell shers, I thought.
'I am studying B.Sc computer science.' He said. I looked at him dumbfounded.
'I have twelve degrees. I collect degrees like hunters collect carcasses.' He said.
Somehow I was not able to imagine him doing anything other than telling shers.
'But computer science is the hardest. I have met an equal challenge this time. Kabir kahta hai...'
'I will teach you.' I volunteered. Anything to stop him from telling a sher.
I taught him about bits and bytes rest of the trek. And whenever he understood a concept he said a sher that expounded a similar idea. But that was far and in between. I had the bittersweet realization of how a poor teacher I was.

The trek program came to an end. On our last day, we exchanged our numbers.
'You are seventy. Why are you still studying?' I asked.
'Because I like it.' He said and smiled. I thought I got the key to what I was searching for.
'This trek has given me new life. I will definitely call you.' I said.
'Kabir kahta hai...' He started.
'Don't ruin the moment.' I said.

Back in Bangalore, traffic jams and bugs swallowed me. I never made the call that I had promised. Whenever I saw an advertisement for a correspondence course I would remember him. But nothing more. Not for ten years. But it changed last month!

'Why do you want to do M.Sc after fifteen years?' The girl at the counter asked as she took my application form.
'Because I like it.' I said and smiled.

I don't have his number anymore. So if you come across an eighty year old spewing shers and studying for B.Sc, please don't tell him about me.
I still can't stand shers.



This is an entry for the "Around the World with Expedia" blogging contest with Expedia and Indiblogger. If you like it please vote for me here

Story of Time Baba and Lime Thatha



Seekers of spirituality will do well to know that the path to self realization not only goes through the Buddhist monasteries and Zen gardens but also the clock of Time Baba. 

-Dalai Lama


All have time for what they do. None has time for what they want to do.
-Time Baba, Life Gaga





Time Baba, Life Gaga movement may be dead now. But back in seventies every desk had a Time Baba calender and every day a celebrity joined its fold. Now all that is left of the movement that spread like wild fire and died like May fly is a dilapidated temple in a remote village in Tamil Nadu. And in the temple, the idol of Time Baba stands alone but for... Lime thatha. Lime thatha sells lemon juice to odd tourists and tells tall tales to curious seekers.

"What would you do if you have two extra hours?" The interviewer asked.
Gopal hated trick questions. He hated it even more than the countries and capitals questions. He had heard people saying Time is money. But he belonged to the group that could do with two hours less and little more money than two hours more and lot less money.
'I will spend the time selling our shaving blades, Sir.' Gopal said finally.
The interviewer scratched his beard unimpressed. Walk the talk was clearly not high up on his list.
'What is your salary expectation?', The bearded guy asked.
'Ninety nine rupees and seventy five paise.' Gopal was afraid to quote high but wanted to include the bus charge and camphor for Ganesha every day.
'We will get back to you' The guy closed the interview politely.
Gopal knew that he had blown up the interview. The guy had not even made note of his salary expectation.   

"Profound question." A voice interrupted Gopal's thoughts. He looked up and saw a man in dirty saffron robes.
"Absurd answer." The man sat near him on the park bench.
Gopal looked around anxiously for help.
"What people do when they get two hours is very different from what they say they will do. Do you know that?" Swami asked.
Gopal nodded wearily. The only thing he knew was that the park was not a safe place for women and heterosexual men in evenings.
"Do you want to know what you should have said?" Swamiji asked.
"Does it matter now?" Gopal asked.
"Sure. You can tell that to the guy and get a job. I can,", Swami paused dramatically for a moment,"change time."
Gopal looked at Swami's face for the first time. It was calm, serene and radiant.
"What I should tell him? Tell me. Please." Gopal begged.
"Or will you rather want to know what you are meant to do if you get those extra two hours?" Swami asked.
"Rats! I don't like trick questions." Gopal said frustrated.
But the swami just smiled and said nothing.
"All right! I will tell you the truth. Nobody gets extra two hours. I would rather like to know what I should tell the interviewer and get the job." Gopal said.
Swami shook his head and smiled ruefully.

Gopal ran up the steps just as the bearded guy was coming out.
"Double edge shaving blades!" Gopal announced as he caught up with him.
"What?" The guy was puzzled. He was not used to panting strangers offering life changing advise.
"I will spend the extra hours devising double edge blades." Gopal said.
"Nobody cares about how many edges..." The man stopped abruptly as he was having an Eureka moment. "But we can sell at a higher price point because of two blades!"
The man was excited.He made an on the spot offer to Gopal. The swami was not there when Gopal went back to the park. But there was a photo of what looked like an idol on the bench. Gopal made a small enclosure near the bench with couple of bricks and kept the photo inside. There was something written below the photo which did not make much sense to Gopal. But he saw the word 'Time' repeated many times. So he wrote 'Time Baba' on one of the brick.

Gopal visited Time Baba temple before he went about selling the blades at the bus stand every day. On the odd days he did not, he felt listless, sold less and earned less commission. Slowly Time Baba became popular in the village. A steady stream of people started coming to the temple. But the fortune of Gopal's company went the other way. Severe competition and commoditization of shaving blades eroded the company's profits.
"Aren't we doing double edge shaving blade idea I gave?" Gopal asked the owner one day.
The guy looked at him for a long time and said,"I want to. I really do. But I don't have time. If I just had two hours extra.." 

So Gopal went about his job selling lesser and lesser and earning lesser and lesser. He became sadder by the day. But he never stopped going to Time Baba temple.
"It is here that I am happy." Gopal told himself as he cleaned the garbage left by the visitors near Time Baba temple.
"I want to spend more time with you. Clean temple,Do poojas. But.. But where do I have time? I have to sell blades." Gopal said looking at Time Baba.

"Wow! How profound." Gopal heard some one saying in a strange accent as he was cleaning. He cringed when he saw two fair men. He was used to North Indians abusing him when he tried selling blades to them. But these people were friendlier.
"Steve! Look at this. This is huge. I can feel it!" One of them said.
"I don't like the design." Steve said unimpressed."The slogan is too long. The logo is not culture neutral." "But we can change them!" One white man said.
"Hmm... I don't know. I want to go back to California." Steve said.
"But I want to do this." The white man said.
"It's your wish." Steve shrugged. "But what about this guy?" He pointed at Gopal.
"Do you want a temple to be built for Time Baba?" The white man asked Gopal. Gopal nodded enthusiastically.
"I will build one. But on one condition. You should not talk about Time Baba anymore." The white man said.

Within a week, a marble temple came up in the park. Within a month, Time Baba was covered in Newsweek and BBC. Within a year, Time Baba trust made million dollars by the sale of calenders. Everybody wanted to have one. Even Gopal bought one for himself - a month before his company closed and he lost his job.

"I don't believe you." I said as Lime thatha finished the story.
"Maybe, this original photo will convince you." He took out a faded photograph from his pocket. My jaw dropped as I saw the Hindu logo and the original slogan.
From Funny Side Of Life

"What happened to Gopal?" I asked.
I knew what had happened to the white man. Lord Hoso Kamaleesh had committed suicide due to depression and Time Baba, Life Gaga movement disappeared into oblivion just as swiftly as it had risen.
"He cleans the temple, sells lemon juice and tells tales." Lime thatha said.
"But... but you seem so happy! You could have been..."I was awestruck by the old man who radiated happiness.
"Surprising isn't it! Maybe it is because," Lime thatha said in a mysterious tone, "This is what I was meant to do!"
"I still can't believe it. I mean... you could have founded Gillette!" I said overawed.

This is an entry for Surf Excel Matic #GetSmart 'If you had two extra hours in a day, how would you spend it?' contest of Indiblogger. If you liked this post consider voting for me here.

Hairline fracture of reality

The menfolk of my household, The Rajamanis of Ramnad District, may not be the best example of male species. We do not bleed blue when Dhoni and Co gets walloped in Lords. Nor do we sit twiddling our thumbs in front of TV when Allonso goes  round and round on those stupid tracks. But Boy! when it comes to haircare, we are the machoest of the machoest. Our motto is simple - If the hair is black and isn't balding then we don't bother. The high priests of fashion may not really agree with our ideas on haircare. But our ideas resonate with the men of India. I mean, look at the two hairstyles that knocked the wigs out of the head of Indian men in the recent past.







You will definitely agree that today's men are not very much better than Neanderthals when it comes to hairstyle.

The haircare regimen reached its zenith under the reign of my father. He banished all haircare products - indigenous and digenous, out of his kingdom (a small two bedroom house in erstwhile Madras presidency). In fact, the only time he talked about hair was on the auspicious occasion of the maiden voyage of the royal prince across the high seas to the strange land. Of course, I am referring to my first onsite visit from my software company.

"Cut your hair short. Really, really short." My father advised.
"Is that the trend in U.S?" I asked him.
"No. It costs fifteen dollars to have a haircut there." My father said.
I made a Gandhian promise of not setting foot in a salon in U.S.

I left India in a hairstyle similar to the one in Ghajini. Of course, at that time it was called as Protima Bedi style.My only achievement in U.S was snapping a photo with Amir khan at Oscar awards ceremony.
"I really really loved Lagaan." I gushed.
"Well! I really really love your hair style." Amir said and smiled. 

When I boarded the flight back to India I had really long tresses of hair. I had not had a haircut for six months! My hair must have made a big impression on fellow passengers.

"I love your hairstye." The teenager in the next seat said.
"Sairam, from Chennai." I extended my hands.
"Dhoni, from Jharkhand." He shook hands with me.
I didn't know it back then, but Ghajini's premiere and Dhoni's debut were the biggest WOW hair moments of my life.

You don't believe me. Right? I know. I know! But why don't you cut me a little slack and play along with me. After all in my real life, I go through my OMG hair moments every month.

"Shall I dye your hair?" My barber asks every time.
"But...I am just thirty."
"Really! What did you do to your hair?"
"Nothing."
"Hmm... Pity. You ought to have done something. You should have tried Dove. And you should have definitely come here more often." He shakes his head sadly.
From Funny Side Of Life
From photos
This is a post for Indiblogger contest, ‘Love is a two way street: Love your hair and it loves you back!’ Contest. If you like this post, vote for me here

It is time to be free!

I love those huge electronic shops in malls. I go from aisle to aisle studying the merits, demerits of each and every item on display. The sales persons never bother me because they know I can be real brutal.

But something strange happened the other day.
"Do you like Samsung Tablet? It's the best, sir." The new sales guy jumped on me hoping for some sales commission.  I had to cut him to size. This kind of optimism did no one any good.

"So... Tablet PC is a laptop with smaller screen, lesser power and no keyboard. Is that right?"
 I asked him innocently.



"No! It is a thinner, lighter device for on the go." He corrected me.
"On the go! I never go! Never. Ever! That's why I have something called house. To put the stuff that I want. Italian leather sofa, LCD TV, Surround Sound, I have everything I want right in my house!  Where will I go? Why will I go?"

The sales guy looked crestfallen. I moved in for the kill.
"Okay! So why do you say Samsung tablet is the best."
The salesperson walked right into the trap. Boy! You should have seen the glow on his face.
"It is thinner, lighter,faster than any other tablet, Sir!"
"What! Thinner by less than a gram! Lighter by 6 mm. A shade faster. Is that why it is the best?"
The salesperson looked like a road kill. But he made one last ditch effort.
"You seem like a very knowledgeable person..."
"Of course, I am. I have been in IT for fifteen years."
"Would you like to talk to Samsung TAB?"
"What?"
"She will exclusively talk to discerning customers like you." He gestured to someone at the back of the store.

The screen shimmered slightly and out came..... Samsung TAB! Reading the technical specs and seeing the video is one thing. But seeing a person in flesh and blood is.. Boy! I tell ya! She is the fairest, and the slickest of them all.  Her skin, that rich tone, those curves!

"Listen! I am not an ON-THE-GO person. I don't need you."
 I put up a brave front as she glided towards me.
"I see! A designer house where the carpet and the walls match, right!" Her voice! It was so clear and real. She must have had those great surround speakers. A complete multimedia girl, I told myself.
"Is it Nerolac enamel rich finish paint?" TAB asked with an hint of approval.
"Yeah! The Saif Ali Khan one." I said sheepishly.


"Papa,look. I have drawn you and Mom fighting." My two year old kid shouted from across the store. He had a box of crayons in his hand. On the white store wall he had drawn two disfigured circles! Stick hands were poking each others eyes.

"Wow! Doesn't it look like a cave painting? Is he two years,four months and six days old?" TAB asked inquisitively.
"How did you know?"
"That was the mental faculty of cave men. It's all in my digital library - Reader's Hub."
"So my son is going to do drawings.. on walls?"
"Lots of them. For next two years. On the Nerolac enamel rich finish painted walls."
I was feeling slightly dizzy."I need..."
"A drink? There is a bar around the corner." TAB said intuitively.
"Will you join me? I know you will have lot of work."
"It might come as a surprise to you. But I can multitask. The only tablet to do so." She beamed.

There is nothing that can cool down a man like a chilled beer and a pair of sympathetic ears.
"You see! You are always on the go. Sometimes you wanna, but most of the times you havta." TAB said as she sipped her beer.
"How come you are so intelligent?"
"I told you! Reader's Hub. I don't want to brag about it. But it is the best digital library around."
"Can I be frank with you?"
"Men swear that I am their best friend."
"Well... I love my son. But of late.... he is so energetic. Pulling, pushing, breaking things. I keep him in Children's park in the apartment complex all the time just to safe keep my house.
"Oh! Great outdoors, Safe ingates." She smiled.
"But children's park is a brutal place for grown ups." I said
"The see-saws, slides, merry-go-round are five sizes smaller for you."
I smiled. She was funny.

"Seriously! I can't get any work done. What do I do?"
"Get a Tablet!"
"What?"
"They can go with you to places where no laptop has ever gone - toilets, food courts, parking lots. Trust me, With a two year old, these are the only places to work. I have Polaris office suite, connectivity."
"It's not all about work."
"Sure! Catch up with your college friends who are in the children's park of their own apartments with my SocialHub - the melting pot of emails, tweets, status messages."

She was right. I needed a Tablet. But there was one small thing. I didn't want to break her heart. But I had to.
"Listen! I can't buy you. You are the new kid in town. People will talk behind me, if I buy you."
Strangely she didn't seem affected by my comment at all.
"Would you like to see those comparison tables? Metrics as color coded rows, contenders as columns. "
"I have seen them all. I know you are the best. But you got to admit.. it is just couple of points here and there."
"I know. But I am the best."
"It is necessary but not sufficient condition."
"I see." She said still smiling.

We sipped beer quietly for sometime. Any one can walk into the bar and pick us right out - a couple about to break up. The silence was excruciating.

"So you are the one who gives food to your son?"
"Damn!"
"And you are a south Indian."
"You are kidding me. How did you do that?"
"It is elementary. I have a super resolution camera and a dual core Tegra2 processor that can do fast pattern recognition. And.. and you have curd rice stain in your T.shirt."
"Please.. Don't tell anybody this."
"Oh! Don't worry. More men than you think feed their kids. It is harder than many of the man's jobs out there anyway."
"Tell me about it."
"I just did." We both laughed. We were really hitting it off.
"How do you feed him? What's your trick? "
I looked around before whispering, "Romanius, Palisade Guardian."
"Really!" TAB asked in surprise.
"Yeah! Kids love Flash games. They will clean their plate in a second."
"I love Flash too. Do you know who doesn't like Flash?"
"Yeah! What's up with that? How am I going to feed my kid? Are they crazy?"
"No! they are not crazy. But they are.. they are like our fathers."

I took a big gulp from the mug the moment I heard the word father. When I wanted to buy new jeans for the first day of my college my father said, "Nonsense! We went to college in bell bottoms. And that's what you will go in." Boy! That really got me pissed. So I said... "Can it be in blue at least?" That is the thing with fathers. No matter how much you are pissed  with your father, you can't do anything because you are dependent on them. That is, till you start earning.

And Samsung TAB, she was right. Steve Jobs is the mother of all... fathers! The Grand Daddy! He can say things like,
"I will not support flash!",
"You can't download directly to iPad. Use your iTunes."
"Of course, you can only use the apps that I certify."
We went along with him because we were dependent on him. Let's face it, he had the only tablet that's worth buying for a long time.

But times have changed! I looked at the TAB in front of me with open standard HoneyComb. She is thinner, lighter, faster and better. But more importantly she listens to me and works for me not for my father.

"Don't you think it is time to tell your father, I will do what I want to do." She asked me. Her left hand sought and held mine. I looked deep into her eyes for a long time trying to make up my mind.

Finally I said, "You are right. Cheers! It is time to be free." I raised my mug.
"Cheers! It is time to TAB." She said and raised her mug.

This is an entry for Samsung Galaxy TAB contest of Indiblogger. You can watch the recorded video of Samsung Galaxy TAB below, if you had missed the live coverage in this blog.



Indibloggers, If you liked this post please vote for me here.

Tale of two sisters

Long long ago, so long ago, in the gulf of Aqaba lived a king named Brent Krude. He was vitality personified. His presence made lamps glow, palaces warm and industries chug. His enemies decried him as the walking dead from the bowels of earth. But his supporters , and there were too many, praised him as 'The Black Gold'.

He had two lovely daughters - Pat Rol and D`esel. Oh, how lovely they were! They had energy running in their blood, just like their father. And they made the earth move, at least the things on earth. But just as every finger of a hand is different, the off-springs of the father differed too. Pat Rol inherited the smoothness of her father and the snootiness too. De'sel inherited the earthiness and the genuine warmth of her father.

The small differences between the sisters drew a wedge and soon they grew apart. So not long before, Pat Rol led the life of the high society. Nobles like Nikolai Carr, Duke Bike and Lady MaPed became her friends. D`esel cast her lot with the ordinary lorry and dumbo tempo. Pat Rol became famous but D'esel became popular. Because for every Duke there were ten ordinary persons. And this popularity of D'esel made Pat Rol become green with jealousy. So she started a smear campaign against her own sister.

'She's noisy, lumpy and greasy.' Pat Rol cooed in Duke's ears.

'Such a poor listener. You tell her a joke today and she will laugh tomorrow.' She told Carr.
'Oh! That's bad. I need instant response. I am no ordinary lorry.' The carr bristled.

'And she farts!' Pat Rol tells the lady Ma Ped.
'What?'
'You know! Farticulate matter.'
'Oh that!' The lady's face became red in shame.

As Pat Rol launched a strident smear campaign against her sister, D`esel's popularity plumetted. More and more people shied away from talking to D`esel. Disheartened and hounded, D`esel left the kingdom in the middle of night. She wandered aimlessly for many days. Tired, dirty and hungry she fell unconscious in the middle of desert. There she lay for countless days. No passers by stopped for her.

Then one day, the count of Fiato and his entourage passed that way.

'Aren't you D`esel, the most beautiful of them all?' The count asked.
'Yes, I am D`esel, the unfortunate of them all.' D'esel replied. She told about Pat Rol's smear campaign and ended her story with the words, 'Unfortunately, there is a grain of truth in what my sister says about me.'

Count Fiato chided D`esel and said, 'Daughter! We are the clans men of your mother and we know more about you than you yourself.  There is no defect in you that my ministers Tekno and logy cannot set right.'

'Carr mocks me and says I am a slow listener. ' D`esel whined.
'Sure. Because you go unprepared to a meeting with him. So you take time to react. Instead if we prepare you..'
'pressurize you separately and inject separately....' Tekno intervened. Count fixed him with a stare and continued.
'prepare you before and let loose on Carr at the correct time, he will loose himself in your charm.'
'In our logos it is called common rail system.' Logy explained.

'But I am noisy and.. and...fart...' D`esel hung her head in shame.
'Problems from the days when you spent time in barracks with lorries.' Count dismissed it.
'You mean, you can set me right!'
'Of course. In barracks, you stood at the center and had to be loud for all to hear. And it was never good enough. So there were lot of farticulate matter.' Tekno chimed in.
'But the palace of nobles will not be crowded like a barrack. Carrs and Dukes will be scattered around. So instead of seating you at one place we will let you be here, there, every where a bit at a time. Problem solved' The count boasted.
'By the way, we call it multi jet' Logy butted in.
'Stop the technical mumbo jumbo.' The count thundered.
'Sorry, Boss!' Tekno and Logy apologized.
'So, I can be cured!' D`esel said in a tone that had the happiness of her blissful days.

Then three horses came in the distance. As they neared, D`esel saw the most virtuous of the men mounted on them.
'My sons Palio, Punto, Linea.' The count whispered in her ears.
Shyness overtook D`esel and she was barely able to acknowledge the presence of the new men.

So the count with the help of Tekno and Logy taught D`esel new tricks. Tricks that made Pat Rol eat all her words. And in due time many suitors came to D`esel. But D`esel remained loyal to Palio,Punto,Linea, the sons of count Fiato. Soon D`esel became famous among the nobles and popular among commoners.

And when the time came for the King Brent Krude to give away the kingdom to a successor, he chose D`esel for she had all the qualities of Pat Rol and more.


Maybe you can too give your wallet kingdom over to D`esel by making use of Fiat Upgrade Offer . She sure would cost you less than a Pat Rol car.

This is an entry for 'Freedom from Fuel hikes' contest conducted by Fiat and Indiblogger.
Indibloggers, if you liked this post consider voting for me here.

So you've got iPhone, Guess what I've got

I've got a 64 MB pen drive! And a 5K mobile from (I don't want to name names so I am just going to link) this people. By the way, 5K is not a model number.

The best things about my phone are
1)It's cheap.
2)It's cheap.
3)It's cheap.

The bad things (there are quiet a few) about my phone are
1)It's got a trackball (that doesn't track very well) to select menus.
2)It's got "Delete this SMS" and "Delete All SMS" as adjacent menus.
3)(This is the killer) For some reason it asks me 5 times before "Delete this SMS" but not even once before "Delete All SMS".

I can visualize our conversation going like this.

YOU: "Man! Did you wipe off your inbox because the trackball screwed up?"
I : "Ah, a perceptive reader! We see so few of you in this part of internet. Please make your self comfortable and spread some internet love by clicking on like button."
YOU: "Did you or Did you not wipe off your inbox?"
I : "The messages are not that important anyway. Something about me winning 1 million pounds and a girl named Shipa who is new in town and wanting to talk to me."
YOU : "You won a million pounds and a girl new in town wants to talk to you?"
I : "Well, I win it every week. And the girl who is in town, she gives me what looks like a Russia number for some strange reason."

So I come to the question that this post is concerned about:
Do my gadgets reflect my personality?

The answer is: I don't know.
It is short form for: I don't want to know.
But the real answer is: It does. But shall we talk about something else?

So there you have it. Your gadgets, the little things that you buy like mobiles, ipods and laptops, they all tell what you are.
So if you ask,"Are you going to buy iPhone then?" then I have to say, "I thought you are a perceptive reader."

The truth is your gadgets reflect your personality. They don't create your personality.

Just like Arunthati Roy's gadget is a jhola bag (that has a sheaf of papers with the title "Trigonometry of finite little things" and a booker prize) and Siddarth Mallya's gadget is Deepika padukone, my gadget is M****X mobile phone. The gadgets select us as much as we select the gadget.

What about the Dell Inspiron with its changeable covers and the tag line - Change is Easy?

You are right. You can switch the interchangeable lids of Dell Inspiron and go from the hard working IT guy in weekdays to the cool photographer in the weekend. That is, if you are an IT guy with an eye for photography.

Remember this: What is inside the lid is still the same.
It is real.
It is you.
It is Dell.

With the switch of a lid Dell can change because in its true essence, it can work and play harder, faster.
What about you?

In summary, I will buy an Android, maybe. But not an iPhone. Because that's not me.
BTW, I use a Dell. (No, I am not kidding.) I use it to crank out my code as well as my post. It has stood by me. And I love it.

This post is an entry for Dell Inspiron sponsored Change is easy contest for Indibloggers.


If you are an Indiblogger and you liked this post, please consider voting for this post
Also, take a look at my post for HP Take flight with colour and consider voting for it too. I need it very much. Thank you.

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